Criminal Behavior
All over this great planet, there is a great need for cleaning and maintenance crews. It's probably why so many disposables are made to deal with it all; sometimes, sections of the world can be outright crawling with them. ...Sometimes literally. Right now, one little bot -- a waste disposal guy, by the looks of it -- is crab-crawling all over a very large, very smokey pipe. Steam and gunk is pouring out of a hole. The pipe is easily twice as high as the poor bot is tall; crab-crawling might be the best way he could actually get around the top of the silly thing without falling off! Music is playing from a nearby building. The little bot seems to be tapping along to the tune as he works. Flashy and hard to miss, Hot Rod rolls in and transforms back to root mode with a distinctly muttered, "Scrap." He glances from side to side and allllll around the area before his gaze returns to consider the bot. He watches him scramble for just a moment more before adopting a winning smile. "Hey there, little guy! You need a hand? You been cleaning long? Maybe found something while you were cleaning?" He rocks forward, standing poised on the edge of his toes as he peers toward the top of the pipe. This is rather easier for him than it is for the cleaning bot. Rude. The little disposable actually jumps at the sound of Hot Rod's voice; he almost slips off of the pipe, but manages to cling on with his arms as wide as they go. Phew, got a good grip! "U-uhm, I'm... I'm okay." He looks at Hot Rod nervously. "Found something? Wh-what are you looking for?" Broadcast Exoletus says, "Excuse me Not-Slaves." Broadcast Exoletus says, "What do you call yourselves? I am in need of a word other than 'Not-Slave'." Broadcast Whirl says, "For the love of.. Didn't we go over this already?" Broadcast Exoletus says, "I am in need of confirmation." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "As a people, Cybertronians. If you're talking about the various groups within political strife that is this planet, it depends on which group you're addressing." "Whoa, mech." Hot Rod leaps forward with a steadying hand when the bot nearly tumbles. "Oh, you know. Just -- a friend, uhm, left me a package about like--" He gestures. It's a very /vague/ gesture, but generally suggests something just large enough to make the disposal bot's life hard if he actually had to move it. Dropping his hands, Hot Rod glances at the area around them with a fixed frown. "Maybe smaller, I guess, if she couldn't get enough. Might be hanging down inside or something? You know, out of sight. I can't believe people even clean this. I thought no one bothered!" Broadcast Exoletus says, "'Cybertronian'. So that is what you named yourselves." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "We are from Cybertron. What else would we call ourselves?" Broadcast Exoletus says, "You had no name for yourselves or your world in ages past." Broadcast Whirl says, "Thanks, Hot Rod. This is going to be really fun to work with." Broadcast Whirl says, "Oh, I mean, Heated Cylinder." Broadcast Hot Rod says, "Oh so THAT'S a thing now, huh" The little disposable stares at Hot Rod as if he was a bit of a loon. "Of COURSE we clean this. Pipes are important for the infrastructure and stability of our world!" A pause. "...Wait, I think i've seen you someplace before...?" Oh, why, it's the same disposable that handed Hot Rod in a little while ago for a reward! Oops! Broadcast Whirl says, "Apparently! Personally, I think it's much more appropriate than Hot Rod." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Were you simply called Slaves when the Quintessons were here? Our people had no other identity? I was whisked off the planet so fast, I don't know much about our society once they firmly took root." Broadcast Exoletus says, "I do not think they know." Broadcast Exoletus says, "The cortex of the miner I connected to had no knowledge even of the Quintesson Co-Prospertity Sphere." Broadcast Exoletus says, "They are woefully ignorant of their own past." They all look the sam-- wait, no. Bad. They are totally different and recognizable individuals. At least -- eventually. After a lot of squinting. Which Hot Rod promptly engages in, considering the disposable with a somewhat uncertain smile. "Yeah? Maybe. Name's Hot Rod, you might've seen me around." Hot Rod squares his shoulders, putting forward flames (chipped and damaged on the side where he has yet to really fix the damage from his last couple of rounds with his BFFs, leaving him looking more like a hoodlum than ever) and setting his spoiler to best display. It's a hero pose, right off a poster. Name a poster. Any poster. It's /classic/. "Look, I'm sure it's totally important, but it's just -- you're-the-bot-from-the-tunnels!" Broadcast Hot Rod says, "Can't have people educating themselves" Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Then what is the problem with calling ourselves Cybertronian?" she wants to know. "It makes sense to me, if anything around here does." And THERE it is; at the exclamation, YX-939 finally does jump! ...And fall off the pipe. He smacks in to the ground face-first, right in to a puddle of gunk. Not that it makes much of a difference; he was filthy to begin with. But he's on his feet right quick! "You're the criminal!" Broadcast Whirl says, "WOAH." Broadcast Whirl says, "WAIT." Broadcast Whirl says, "This chick is a Quintesson!?" Broadcast Whirl says, "Those things are real!?" Broadcast Swift Blade says, "She isn't a Quintesson; she merely served them. And yes, they're real. How else did you think I became a slave off world, Whirl?" Broadcast Whirl says, "A series of unfortunate events?" Broadcast Quickswitch says, "Quintesson... The name, it sounds vaguely familiar." Broadcast Swift Blade sighs. "I thought I had told you as much, but perhaps not. I was sold into slavery by them at a young age," she tells Whirl. "So, yes, they are very real. Hot Rod reaches down to help YX-939 to his feet almost despite himself, but draws back at his words. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Mech, you keep saying that and I'm going to start taking it personally." He considers the smaller bot with irritation fading slowly into a sort of concern. "Hey, you still do a lot of work down in the tunnels?" There's a completely useless effort YX-939 makes to dust himself off; it honestly does nothing to help. "...I kind of live in the tunnels, yeah. But we didn't find any criminal boxes, you criminal... Person...!" Oh, he is sharp. Relaxing into a grin, Hot Rod says, "Cool. Must be early." He /spectacularly/ fails to take offense to the accusations. "So -- one, why are you so sure I'm a criminal, anyway?" he asks, unfolding his arms to prop one hand on his hip in a CRIMINAL lean. Criminally. "And two, who says that's such a bad thing?" YX-939 blinks once at the question; he seems surprised that it's being asked at all. "Y-you're a criminal because the enforcers said you were!" And that's good enough for him, apparently. "And criminals steal and hurt and murder!" "Oh, sure, the /enforcers/ said so." Hot Rod rolls his eyes so long and so hard that it seems very nearly certain that they will roll right out of his head. "Hey, let me ask you a question: what would you call a group of people who plant bombs or mines into the tunnels beneath the city where bots could run into them? Unmarked, hidden, waiting to go off the second anyone -- innocent, guilty, somewhere in between -- gets too close?" YX-939 gasps in horror at the question; the very idea! "Criminals! Bombs explode and can hurt someone!" Broadcast Exoletus says, "I am the servant and taskmaster of the Quintesson Imperial Magestrates. Or I was. It would seem that my era is long past." Broadcast Whirl says, "More of us should have tentacles." Broadcast Whirl says, "I fully support tentacles." Broadcast Exoletus says, "Tentacles are reserved for the highest servants." Broadcast Whirl says, "How fancy." "The Senate did that," Hot Rod says very seriously, very soberly. "And I bet they aren't done. Be careful when you go down there, okay? They tried to hide them. That friend of yours put up a sign to warn people. She tried telling the enforcers. You know what they did? They took down her sign. They left the bombs." Little YX-939's face scrunches up. "I don't believe you. You're a criminal, and criminals lie!" Broadcast Swivel says, "Wunner i'tha mech Jackie ki'give summun tent'cals?" Broadcast Swift Blade says, "What would you do with them Swivel?" Broadcast Exoletus says, "I see that the genetic modifications made to you Cybertronians by the masters took root." Broadcast Whirl says, "Like what exactly?" Broadcast Swivel says, "Dunno.... b'it'd b'awesome!" Broadcast Swivel says, "Sumtimes 'avin' jus'two 'ands in'nuff!" Hot Rod grins, which may be a weird reaction. "Good. You shouldn't. Don't believe me. Don't believe anyone. Especially don't believe the Senate. Not until you've seen it with your own eyes, or asked someone you trust. You could ask Swivel. But even if you don't believe me, be careful, okay? I mean -- hey, even if the Senate isn't mining the tunnels beneath Nyon, you never know if I'm down there with my gang of trusty criminals, after all." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "I can accept that reasoning." "Hmph!" YX-939 folds his arms; he looks so tough being, what, half of Hot Rod's size? "You and your criminal friends -- you know Swivel?!" Now he looks heartbroken! "Is Swivel a criminal?!" Broadcast Swivel says, "'N they look neat." Broadcast Whirl says, "They feel /awesome./" "What? No, of course not. I know you, too," Hot Rod points out. "Does that make you a criminal? Trick question, actually: it just /might/ make the enforcers think so." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "How many individuals with tentacles have you met so that you know how they feel, Whirl?" Broadcast Whirl says, "Just one so far." For a moment, YX-939 looks so, so relieved. Then, what Hot Rod says gets through. "Stay away, criminal!" He runs back for the pipe! Moves to climb it! Broadcast Whirl says, "Are there others??" Broadcast Exoletus says, "All Quintessons possess tentacles." Broadcast Swivel says, "'magin' th'dance moves I'd pull wi' tent'cals! Wooooooo yeha! An' th'sorter itty space 'ey c'get inta! All 'em bitty 'oles. Oooh! Oooh! I wan' optics a'th'end o' my tent'cals! Wi'lights! 'En I c'see in all 'em fiddly l'il 'nooks 'n 'crannies." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Alas." Broadcast Swivel says, "Also'd make 'cleanin' me 'ubs easier. " Broadcast Exoletus says, "Whirl Cybertronian. Have you ever wondered why you have a space within your altmode for a smaller being to fit into?" Broadcast Swivel says, "'N I'd get 'venge oner summun fer ticklin' me an' tickle 'em w'tent'caks!" With deep maturity, Hot Rod darts forward and reaches out to grab YX-939 and rub his head. "Oh noooo, look out, I'm getting my criminalness all over you. Look out! It might be contagious!" Broadcast Whirl says, "I thought it was a place to store things." Broadcast Swivel says, "'Swot I use mine fer." Broadcast Exoletus says, "Your species was genetically altered, so that your bodies could serve as conveyances for the Masters." Broadcast Whirl says, "That's terrifying." Broadcast Exoletus says, "You were their chariots." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Or of the people they sold us to." Broadcast Exoletus says, "Similarly I was altered in order to house their young." Broadcast Swivel says, "Oooooh chair-ee-yot! Sounds classy!" YX-939 flails in Hot Rod's grip! In one hand is a... Communicator box? "Help!" Broadcast YX-939 says, "Help!" Broadcast Swivel says, "Oy! 939 'zatya? Where'ya? What izzit? Y'urt?" Broadcast YX-939 says, "The criminal came back!" "What? Oh -- Primus, I was kidding!" Hot Rod throws up his hands and backpedals. "What do you mean, /help/?" Broadcast Swivel says, "Where'ya? Gimme yer coords." YX-939 lets out another yelp as he's let go and dives for the pipe! This time, he dives in to the leaky, steamy hole. He's still yelling in to the box; where did he even GET it? Broadcast YX-939 says, "I was fixing some things in Nyon and the criminal came back and I'm hiding!" Broadcast Exoletus says, "What criminal is this?" Broadcast Hot Rod says, "Actually, why DON'T you come over here and explain to him that I'm NOT a criminal." Broadcast Swivel says, "Th'migh be list'nin on'ere. Comin'!" Broadcast Exoletus says, "HEATED CYLINDER. Are you in danger?!" Broadcast YX-939 gasps! "Oh no he hears us!" Hot Rod stands just outside a pipe with a deeply exasperated expression. YX-939 is nowhere to be seen. He probably murdered him and hid the body. "Come on! I can't actually /turn you into a criminal/ just by /touching you/." Broadcast Hot Rod says, "Not in the slightest." YX-939 is inside the pipe now; there's a clamor of noises as he moves around. This little bot is TERRIBLE at hiding. "I don't believe you! Go away!" It echoes around the pipe but otherwise doesn't really do much to hide where exactly he is. "This kind of stuff never happens in stories," Hot Rod mutters under his breath. He sounds so offended by reality failing to conform to fantasy. "Look, whatever: I can't see you, I can't even touch you, so you're totally safe, right?" Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Hot Rod, are you a criminal?" There's a very long pause following Hot Rod's logic. "...I guess." A gasp. "Unless you blow something up! Criminal!" Broadcast Hot Rod says, "Because I'm totally going to say yes on a public frequency. OF COURSE NOT." Broadcast YX-939 says, "He's a criminal and criminals lie!" Broadcast Exoletus says, "So do non-criminals." Broadcast Whirl says, "Hot Rod is the most dangerous criminal." Broadcast YX-939 says, "See?! Thank you, kind sir!" Broadcast Hot Rod says, "Whirl!" "Why would I even want to?" Hot Rod pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm taking a step back, okay?" And he does, kind of, but it isn't a very big step. Broadcast Exoletus says, "Heated -- I mean 'Hot Rod' is hardly a criminal." Broadcast Exoletus mutters something about meaningless incomprehensible names. Broadcast Whirl says, "I saw him kill someone once." Broadcast Hot Rod says, "WHIRL." Broadcast Whirl says, "Hey! I'm trying to boost your reputation." Broadcast Hot Rod says, "With who, the SECURITY FORCES PROBABLY MONITORING THIS?" There's no movement from the pipe for a few seconds. Then, slowly -- from a completely different hole that's barely more than a crack a small distance away -- YX-939 peeks through. Huh; maybe he's better at hiding then he let on. He says nothing. But he glares. Broadcast Shiftlock says, "I heard that!" Broadcast Whirl says, "Whaaaat? Are you scared?" Broadcast Hot Rod says, "I'm not scared!" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "LOOK I ALMOST BEAT UP A GUY WITH THREE HORNS THAT BREATHES FIRE DON'T MESS WITH ME" Broadcast Whirl says, "Ha. Hahahaha." Broadcast Whirl says, "Hahahahahahahahaha." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "i will arrest you /so hard/." Broadcast YX-939 says, "T-that sound amazing, actually." Broadcast Whirl says, "Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahha!" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "It was, there were missiles exploding and a bridge that collapsed and he killed a guy right in front of me." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "... that poor mech." By this point Hot Rod has been almost entirely distracted by the conversation on the open line which leaves him looking more and more annoyed. (And criminal.) He returns YX-939's glare with a glare of his own when he belatedly spots movement. "/Thanks/." Broadcast Whirl says, "He's probably better off dead." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "HEY" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Your FACE is probably better off dead!!" Broadcast Whirl says, "You're probably right." Broadcast Whirl says, "IF I HAD ONE." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "YOU DON'T HAVE A FACE?! AWESO--I MEAN THAT IS BAD" Broadcast Whirl says, "It's terrible. I'm a bad person, Shiftlock, I mean, person I have never met before." Broadcast Whirl says, "Ask your friend Pax about me, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to regale you with tales about my various crimes." Broadcast YX-939 says, "...Is everyone on this frequency a criminal?" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "NOT ME" Broadcast Rewind says, "I'M NOT!" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "I am a Security Enforcer Recruit Third Class." Broadcast Rewind says, "I.... I think." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "AND MISTER PROWL SAID I DID THE JOB HE EXPECTED ME TO DO." Broadcast Shiftlock totally not getting the utter sarcasm from Prowl when he said that. Broadcast Whirl says, "Pfft." Broadcast YX-939 says, "Oh, thank goodness! That's good that someone important is listening in here!" Broadcast YX-939 doesn't sound sarcastic somehow. Broadcast Rewind thinks YX's voice sounds SO familiar.... Broadcast Whirl says, "You are all dumb." REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEV SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! It starts as the rumble of engines and a clatter from beyond a heap of junk. And then as the noise gets closer, lo and behold, from the peak of junk a small wheeled vehicle shoots through the air, hanging there as it reaches the arch of its trajectory before making a speedy descent to the ground. THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNK! BOING! Kukukukuku! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! The landing is not perfectly flat and so the small vehicle flips froward, landing what WOULD be upside down if such a thing were relevant, but since both 'top' and 'bottom' are effectively the same the small car just bounces a few times on an amazing system of suspensions and shocks before coming to a screeching halt not too far from where Hot Rod is. YX-939 keeps staring out of the little crack in the pipe. At the sight of the new vehicle, he scurries back to the big hole! He stands up in the hole, looking like the happiest mech alive! "Swivel!" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "No, i speak just fine." Hot Rod watches Swivel roll in with a note of almost-relief that turns to broader appreciation. He laughs outright as she screeches to a halt and then steps to the side, clearing out of the way between Swivel and YX-939. "/Nice/. Those tires are good for something, huh? Tell him I'm not a criminal already, would you? It's like he thinks I'm going to murder him. I was trying to /warn/ him." Broadcast Whirl says, "Ugh." Broadcast Whirl says, "Shiftlock." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Yes?" Broadcast Whirl says, "I.. miss you so much." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "... " Broadcast Shiftlock says, "... You know me?" Broadcast Whirl says, "...No." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "I mean, i feel like that HAS to be true but I don't know why." With that ever familiar and distinct sound the transform cog makes, the car unfolds and reshapes itself into Swivel's root mode. She has a smile on her face and a brighter glow to her optics than usual, exuding the exhilaration she was feeling from doing a bit of crazy driving. She turns to where she hears YX-939's voice come from. "Spritz! 'Ave ya seen 'Ot Rod 'ere do 'enthin' crim'nal this cycle? Coz if so, fill yer form out. If not, come 'en don't. Either way, c'mon out. Not all crim'nals 're dang'rous." She makes a beckoning motion with her entire arm, appealing to the little cleaner. Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Miss Shiftlock, when in doubt, go with your feelings." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "My feelings don't make any sense." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Then you must sort them out to go with them. Feelings are not made to be logical, they are made to help us when things are NOT logical." Swivel's offer/order/query to come on out of the pipe baffles poor YX-939. He stops for a moment. "But... But..." Suddenly, he looks so crushed and heartbroken. "...He said you weren't a criminal too...!" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Okay, but" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Why should I pay attention to feelings that don't match up to my memories? If they're not logical doesn't that make them unreliable?" Broadcast Swift Blade says, "It is the only way you will ever understand those around you, and you must also understand that a large percent of people will also have conflicting feelings...and memories. I have been around for nine million years; memory is not the most reliable part of our minds." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Uhhhnngg. This is making my head heat up again." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Then take a break. Perhaps someday, you will achieve a...balance." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "No, no, this happens when I get around certain people." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "My head heats up. When Hot Rod showed up I overheated completely and went offline." "Spritz?" Hot Rod repeats, glancing at YX-939 and then back at Swivel. He throws up his hands in a wide gesture of exasperation and walks a circle away from them and then back again. "She's not a criminal! Not unless helping people is a crime, which -- you know, sometimes it is. And maybe I'm guilty of that. And if I /am/ a criminal, it's because our laws are unjust. Sometimes there's a higher law!" Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Are you around them right now, or is just the mention of them, or their voice, sufficient? This is most interesting. I have never heard of something like that happening before. Perhaps there is some...injury...to one of your systems?" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "No, I have the best doctor ever and he totally repaired me." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "I dunno, I just get headaches." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Have you been in a battle since then?" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Not until today." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "And the headaches occured before then?" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Yes." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "I am no medic; I wouldn't presume to know the cause. Perhaps one cycle I will see you in person." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "You know what? I'll just ask Doctor Pharma to help me with my headaches, he can fix anything." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Thanks!" "I 'ent crim'nal. But I also figger this fella..." She tilts her head towards Hot Rod, "In'na gunna 'urt ya. 'E likes 'elpin' peeps, although I 'unno if gettin' 'em 'volved in 'is anti-gov ways is REALLY 'elp fer some." She gives an impish sideglance to Hot Rod. "Feel free t'nore 'im, though. If ya jus' 'nore 'im, 'en ya kinna be 'cused o' 'sosciatin' now, kinya?" Swivel ooks as though she were about to say something, but a look of concern flashes over her face for a moment as she listens to the broadband. "Oy... Tha'femme otter jus' get orff th'band if she's get'in unwell." Swivel then idly rubs the backs of her knuckles against the palm of her other hand, looking down. "Friend o' yers, O'Rod?" Broadcast Swift Blade says, "If he is your doctor, then that would be his responsibility, yes. And if he does not help you with your headaches, then perhaps you need a second opinion." For a moment, YX-939 keeps starting at Swivel. Then, slowly, he gets out of the pipe and walks over. Cautiously. "I know you're not a criminal, Swivel." A glare at Hot Rod. "But I'm not really sure about him. He grabbed me!" Broadcast Whirl says, "Shiftlock." Broadcast Shiftlock says, "Yes?" Broadcast Shiftlock says, "... OOOH. You're giving me a really bad headache -- I --" Broadcast Shiftlock silent for a moment. "... why am I leaking." Broadcast Whirl says, "Hnng." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Where are you leaking from?" Broadcast Swivel says, "Mebbe get orff th'chan and seek 'elp! Now!" Broadcast Shiftlock's voice garbles and stretches out like a botched audio file. "Miiiiiiiiyyyyyy h-h-h-h-heaaadddd." YX-939 stares at the communicator box as if it's become possessed. Broadcast Swift Blade says, "Someone fetch that poor femme a medic." Broadcast Whirl says, "Maybe she'd be better off dead." Broadcast Shiftlock's signal stops. Broadcast Swift Blade says, "No. That is not the answer. While one is functioning, things have a chance, however small, of getting better. I know this." Hot Rod visibly grows more agitated by the same conversation that makes Swivel look concerned. He meets Swivel's impish sideglance with unsmiling outrage. "Yeah! Yeah, she's a friend of mine, and they arrested her, dragged her away, wiped her memory, and programmed her to attack me! That's your Senate. That's your Enforcers! But, hey -- you know, go ahead. Worry about who you're associating with. Worry about obeying the rules of a corrupt system that abuses their power. Might not even be a bad idea. You could always be next. /But I won't/." Somewhat amused, Swivel looks at YX-939. "Did 'e now?" She asks, shifting her glance to Hot Rod with a deliberate slowness as she cocks an optic ridge. "Grabbed you." She continues to stare at Hot Rod meaningfully. And catches his expression, her face quickly going sober just as he begins to explain a part of the tragedy that is Shiftlock. She then looks uneasy. "Dun 'spose ya'd know where this femme's likely t'be?" Swivel's vocoder grows tense. "Mebbe.... summun otter check on 'er...." She looks at YX. "I know y'kin get access t'lotter places 'coz yer 'invisible'," Swivel says, holding up two fingers on each hand and bending them as she says 'invisible'. YX-939 is looking from the communicator box to Swivel in a bit of alarm; Shiftlock's voice seems to have spooked him. Then, Swivel does the quotation sign. "...I don't know what that means. But, uhm, yeah, I get access to all the sewage and pipes and underground..." "I know where she is. Pax already knows to keep an eye on her, and about the programming. So does Ratchet. Who's a slagging better doctor for her than /Pharma/." Hot Rod speaks Mr. Hot Shot Jet Surgeon's name as though it were something truly vile, with his outrage threatening to tip over to fury. "She's in Rodion. I'm sure someone /is/ checking on her. Probably to make sure his /programming/ is still in place." Broadcast Whirl says, "That is no way to live." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "No, it isn't. But do not give up hope that it will remain that way forever. Just as people retain hope that things will get better in general on Cybertron." YX-939 frowns deeply at Hot Rod. "Programming?" Doesn't look like he quite believes what Hot Rod is saying. "M-maybe she's just having a medical problem! I heard that medical problems can happen that aren't from criminals...!" Broadcast Whirl says, "But it wont." Broadcast Swift Blade says, "The more you convince yourself, and others, that it will never get better, the more likely it is you will be right." Serious mode, activate. There is an unusual intensity about Swivel's purple optics as she listens to Hot Rod's information. "If you are sure she is being 'checked' on, then I won't bother 'bout it. But..." She looks to Spritz AKA YX-939, "Do you know 'oo is on duty in around Rodion? If so, we can ask anyone working there to keep an optic out for 'er an let us know that she is being looked after." With the serious face, comes better speaking. But then again, being drunk sometimes also improves her speech. Go figure. YX-939 blinks once. "Rodion?" He tilts his head slightly as he thinks VERY HARD. "...Where in Rodion? Last I checked, there were five different issues going on there. 913, 965, 983, 842 and... 27 are in there." "Nngh." Hot Rod gives YX-939 a sharp look. "Yeah, she has all kinds of medical problems. As in a problem. With her medic. Who, by the way, is--" Some very colorful language briefly follows. It's criminal language, really. "I'm sure she's being /checked on/, but I'm also sure it's /not helping/. If you want to know where she is, talk to Orion Pax, or maybe you can see her yourself. She'll be by the police station down there if she's out. But I'm not going to tell you exactly where. Sorry." He folds his arms again and gives YX-939 a particular glare. Swivel looks between Hot Rod and YX-939 a few times, a pensive expression growing. And then with fery little warning, she makes a grab for Hot Rod's hand, intending to hise his larger hand in her two smaller ones. With Hot Rod's hand in hers, Swivel peers up, holding his hand firm yet gently. This also keeps him from keeping his arms folded and prevents stand-offish body language, in a why, bringing down a barrier. "We're jus' tryin' t'elp, jus' like you do.... d'ya really wanner discourage us from caring?" Her optics gleam from beneath the brass crest on her helmet, her speech pattern setting back to the norm in gradients. Surprised into stillness, Hot Rod meets Swivel's gaze slightly askance, doubtful. His hand lies tense between hers. All the outrage and anger that so clearly marks his features and voice can be read in the tension of his frame. His shoulders slump after a moment, and he shakes his head. "Of course not. But Senators, people with power: they are after her. Because she knows enough to expose their corruption." After another beat, he says, "She's actually staying with him. So she's pretty well protected -- except they already got at her head." Seeing, no feeling the tension, Swivel just remains patient as Hot Rod collected himself. Her Optics dim slightly as his shoulders sag, as if their brightness were gauging his level of tension, going 'quieter' to reflect the declination. "That is REALLY scary, 'Ot Rod. And 'ard t'believe. I dun wanner b'lieve th'gov'ment kin do things li'tha. But I don't not b'lieve you, either. Jus' takin' m'time to try an' figure out what is what, now tha' th'world seems so topsy-turvy." She slowly releases Hot Rod's hand. "An' YX-939 'ere int in a place t'take this kinner.... news. Took a bit t'even get 'em talkin' t'me. They dinna know wot t'do 'en I started talkin' t'em. So now, t'accept summun' 'oo was deemed criminal from'ther law tha'gives 'em rations an' 'im sayin' it's all scary evil stuff, it's a lot." Swivel steps back and sidels over to YX, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Scary, and confusin', innit, Spritz?" She then looks to Hot Rod. "Seems t'me wotter they did makes 'er b'in pain 'en 'round peeps from 'er past... or e'en 'earin' 'em. Might 'ave a word with Whirl." YX-939 looks between Swivel and Hot Rod with a mix of confusion and fear. "...I don't know what to do but... Can I help?" He looks at Swivel as he says that. "I still don't like him, but I like you. I don't think you'd hurt me." A pause. "...What's a whirl?" "What they've done to her is just the start of it," says Hot Rod with the absolute intensity of a passionate believer ... or crazy conspiracy theorist. (WHY NOT BOTH.) "I /saw/ what they did to others. I helped /shut it down/. I don't want to believe the Senate's as corrupt as it is either! No one wants to believe this kind of slag. But you can't close your eyes to it." He gives YX-939 a sharp look and turns away with a sharp, exasperated noise. "When've I ever tried to hurt you, mech?" "Whirl is a who, not a what," Swivel briefly explains, leaving it at that. "Spritz... tha's wot I call 'im 'coz YX-939's a mouthful, was jus' taught all crim'nals're dang'rous." Swivel slings an arm about YX-939's shoulders. "I dun wanner do 'enthin' tha'd get me trouble wi'the law... but en'thin legal I kin do t'elp I will, an' I think tha's wot Spritz is tryin' t'say s'well. We're scared 'n confused, an' get weird ideas... so mebbe y'ent tried t'urt Spritz, but..." She shrugs. "Tha's nigh 'ere nor there now, coz..." Swivel trails off not finishing her sentence. YX-939 only looks like he's becoming more distressed as time goes on. "...You grabbed me." It sounds pretty weak now, though. "...But, yeah, I... No criminal stuff." Hot Rod deflates in disbelief. "I was just messing around! Teasing, you know? Look, I won't do it again." He holds his hands up, palms turned out in a gesture of innocence. "Look, I've been there. I didn't want to get in trouble, get arrested -- I /still/ don't want to get arrested, because if I go in, I might not be coming back out the same. And that's about the most messed up thing I can think of. But one day someone showed me something I couldn't ignore. Might happen to you. Just take care of yourselves. Keep your eyes open in the tunnels. And don't trust anything that anyone tells you unless you see it with your own eyes." Swivel shifts her weight more to her heel and places her hands out in front of her, letting them rest, one hand over the other, just in front of the uppermost part of her thighs. She then rolls her weight to the tips of her feet, then back to the heel, rocking ever so slightly. "See? 'E meant no 'arm... so no 'arm done?" Swivel says to Spritz. She then looks at Hot Rod. "DOn't b'ieve 'enthin' 'less ya see it... tha'd be... well a lotter stuff, woonnit?" YX-939 looks from Hot Rod to Swivel and back again; he looks incredibly worried. "...Are we going to find the person that was talking on the box...?" He holds up the communicator box; it's probably not something he should have. "Okay, maybe not anything, but just -- the Senate's not going to tell you the truth. The Enforcers aren't going to tell you the truth. They are going to tell you what they think you need to know to keep /their/ order. So." Hot Rod waves his hands all exasperated and says, "Don't believe them. But I'm not saying you have to believe me without proof, either. That's all." He glances at YX-939 with a grimace. "Not without a medic /I'm/ not." With an amused expression, Swivel looks at the box. "Now.... where'd y'lift tha'from? Looks we gotterselves a thief in th'makin'" Swivel teases, but then quickly sobers up. "From what O'Rod says, she's got summun t'take care 'er 'mediate needs... but they're also doin' sumtin' t'er 'ead, so's my guess is she's safe, but she in't safe. Yanno.... an' wellum, tryin' t'rescue 'er woona be good idea if she dun realise she needs rescuin'. We'd jus' get branded crim'nals... an tha's th'most dangerous fer you 'coz you 'ent got the protection o'the law. They kin jus' kill ya w'out all th'red wire." YX-939 blinks in surprise at Swivel's comment on the box. "...I found it in the trash. My supervisor gave me the okay to keep it, though. We find stuff in the trash all the time!" He looks distressed at the very idea that he would steal! Not this bot, no siree! "I... I don;t know who this person is, but I feel badly for her." "She doesn't need to be /rescued/," says Hot Rod, and he says it like it causes him actual physical -- like the words are red hot bits of metal that he spits to cool on the ground. "She can't be /rescued/. I can't fix her. I can't protect her. Pax can at least do one of those things." "I... see...." Swivel says slowly and carefully, observing the painfulness of the topic. "But she seems t'be in pain whene'er Whirl talks on th'band." She reaches up and scratches her head, thinking for a moment or two. "An' t'ent fair t'er... 'at 'e can't leave 'er be. I'm gunna 'ave words with Whirl next I see 'im." Swivel then looks back at the box. "Tha's jus' a radio th'can talk oner global channel. Kinner like th'cleaner chan y'in yer bots use t'coor'nate. Jus dun b'careless w'it. Woona want summun t'think yer outter yer place." Swivel understand her place and that of the disposables. Whether it is wrong or not, she knows the status quo. YX-939 nods slowly to Swivel. "I... I got the go-ahead to keep it, so it wouldn't even be me that got in trouble if someone high up found out..." It's almost a whisper. He looks at the box. "...Maybe I shouldn't keep it." Swivel waves her hands. "No no no no, go 'head an' keep it, jus' dun be irresponsible wi'it, yanno? I think listenin' t'it might be good, b'jus be careful 'bout talkin' on it, unless it's a 'mergency li'the one you /thought/ y'were in," Swivel attempts to clarify. She doesn't want to deny the little mech of a source of potential information and entertainment. "She is -- she does. Sure, she's in pain; sure, it's not fair. But it's not /his/ fault. I've gone to Kaon, I've gone to Iacon, I've asked every single /expert/ that I can even think of that I'd trust to help them. None of them can, or will. The second I find someone who can help--?" Hot Rod breaks off with a sharp gesture and looks into the distance. "Then everything's different." He stirs restlessly, then glances back. He looks past YX-939 to the now-ignored pipe, then vents. "I need to go check up on that, uh, delivery. I wouldn't worry too much about the radio. What harm is there in people having freer access to information?" Pasting on innocence, Hot Rod tosses them a smile as he turns to go. If it is a little strained around the edges -- well. YX-939 looks down at the communicator box in his hands again. It isn't exactly the newest model or anything; who knows if it can even pick up more than the one broadcast channel. Slowly, he puts it back in to subspace. "Okay. Okay, if you two say so." Still, he looks concerned. "D'liv'ry?" Swivel seems to perk up at this very word, and for a moment, it seems like she hears nothing else. "Yanno I--" Swivel then realises that Hot Rod is still talking. Swivel cmapsher mouth shut and goes so far as to throw her hands over her mouth to keep her from interrupting again. She would have finished her thought, but seeing the frayed smile from Hot Rod, suddenly it just doesn't seem important anymore. Whatever it was she was going to say. "Yeah... y'take care..." She then looks to YX-939 who has put away his communications box and gives him a hint of a smile. "Different kind of delivery." Hot Rod's smile briefly widens. "In fact, it might not even be legal." He spreads his hands in a rogue's shrug and then heads off with an easy saunter. Only a glance back betrays tension before he transforms to drive off. IT IS NOW A CRIME-FREE ZONE.